


astrology for jerks

by Dandybear



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Astrology is Fun but Don't Make Big Decisions Based Around It, Character Study, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:33:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3761680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dandybear/pseuds/Dandybear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's max's birthday and apparently virgo and scorpio are a very compatible match</p>
            </blockquote>





	astrology for jerks

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is mainly because i'm trash and when i found out max and victoria's birthdays i looked up their zodiac compatibility. (very high) and instead of make a post about it somewhere, i got creative.
> 
> i took some artistic liberties with victoria and taylor's relationship. the whole 'TAYLOR IS A SLAVE' thing has pretty kinky implications and i like to think they're close enough to fight when it matters.

It’s not Facebook stalking. It’s observing the enemy. The enemy in her natural habitat. Except she hasn’t posted anything in three days and now her wall is covered in obligatory, ‘Happy Birthday, Max!’ comments.

  
  


The most recent is from Warren.

 

“Maximillion Pegasus! Screw the rules, you have birthday monaaayy!”

 

Warren Graham is such a lame piece of shit she can't physically or emotionally contain all of the rage he gives her. Victoria punches her desk. Taylor looks up at her from her place on the couch. Shit, she forgot Taylor’s studying in her room. Her hand is stinging and she’s playing it cool.

 

“The hell was that?” Taylor says.

 

“Testing the structural integrity of my desk.” She replies too quickly.

 

Taylor gives her that confused squint.

 

"It's good."

 

Victoria plays innocent by opening a new tab for a web search.

 

Google: ‘Virgo Scorpio compatibility’.

 

Perfect.

 

The breath on the back of her head makes her shoulders rise, defensive.

 

“Snoop, much?” Her voice cracks.

 

“Finding out what’s got you spazzing.”

 

Taylor’s eyes flick from the computer screen, to Victoria, then to her phone. She presses a hand to her face and shakes her head.

 

“Who’s a Virgo?”

 

“Nobody. Zachary.”

 

“Zachary’s birthday is in June.”

 

Caught in a lie. Taylor sees the other tab labelled ‘Max Caulfield’.

 

“Oh my god.”

 

“Oh my god.” Victoria parrots in a poor imitation.

 

“You thirsty creep! You’ve got it soooo bad for Caulfield.” Taylor says.

 

“Bitch, talk louder. I dare you.” Victoria says.

 

Taylor smirks,

 

“That wasn’t a denial.”

 

“What-the-fuck-ever, Taylor. I just wanted to know why I hate her so much. It must be a supernatural force.”

 

Taylor keeps a neutral expression. Slowly, she moves a fingertip in front of Victoria’s nose.

 

“I swear, it keeps getting bigger every time you open your mouth. Try it this time, but without lying.”

 

Victoria slaps the hand away and flips her off.

 

She expects that to be the end of it, but Taylor cover’s Victoria’s hand on the mouse and clicks the first link.

 

“Well, let’s find out shall we?”

 

Victoria skims, feeling her heart race. Taylor’s mouth is right by her ear. She reads aloud.

 

“‘Virgo and Scorpio enjoy working together toward acquisition: Virgo wants order and Scorpio wants power.’ Sounds like you two. ‘Scorpio is rambunctious and intense, and Virgo is attracted to this energy. In turn, Scorpio needs the loyalty and practicality inherent in Virgo.’ Ooo, do you think Max finds your constant need for attention sexy?”

 

Victoria elbows Taylor in the gut. Winded, she still manages a breathy chuckle.

 

“Bitch, I will kick you out of my room.”

 

Taylor ignores her.

 

“This is good base information, but lets find out about the juicy stuff.”

 

She hovers over ‘Virgo Man and Scorpio Woman Compatibility’, then bounces down to ‘Virgo Woman and Scorpio Man Compatibility’. The cursor darts up again. Taylor chews her lip. Victoria edges her fingers towards the mouse.

 

“Would you consider yourself or Max the ‘guy’ in your imaginary fantasy relationship?”

 

“She’s got the more masculine name and body, but I’m taller and would be the one who pays for things? Do you think she’s a top or bottom? ‘cause like, she’s shy, which says ‘bottom’, but there’s something so top about her.”

 

Her cheeks heat up as she realises how much she’s given away. Taylor looks at her hard for a minute, raises her eyebrows, then says,

 

“Right, ignoring those links. Astromatcha, show us your wisdom.”

 

The fingers inching towards the mouse finally smack Taylor’s hand away and retrieve control.

 

“‘High level of success’, ‘unbeatable team’, ‘feel a sense of togetherness from the start’, and ‘an unusual but almost fated partnership’. Shit, Dude. The zodiac’s telling you to hope on that P.”

 

Taylor finally exits Victoria’s personal bubble. The absence of heat is noted but most definitely not missed. She curls a leg under her body and grabs her foot, picking some lint from her sock.

 

“So?” Taylor says.

 

“So what?” Victoria snaps.

 

“What are you going to do for Caulfield’s birthday?”

 

“I don’t know? Ignore her?”

 

A throw pillow hits the side of Victoria’s head. She grabs it, slides out of her chair, and tackles Taylor to the sofa. Straddling her, she smothers Taylor with the pillow. A smooth thigh, unpinned, hits Victoria in the groin. With a gasp, she loosens her hold. Taylor bats away the pillow and looks up at her with blown pupils and sticky lips.

 

Victoria runs a finger along Taylor’s lower lip. She turns her head away.

 

“Don’t. Don’t do this just because it’s easier than going after what you want.” Taylor says.

 

“But, I already have you.”

 

Victoria forces Taylor’s head back. Taylor makes a frustrated noise and sits up, forcing Victoria off.

 

“Taylor, you’re my slave, get back down there.”

 

“As your slave, and your friend, I’m telling you to pursue something that’s actually good for you. If you spent half the effort spent on Jefferson to seduce Max you’d have her eating out of your hand.”

 

Taylor walks out leaving Victoria red faced with wet eyes. She screams into the pillow, then throws it at the door.

 

The rejection rises with the acid at the base of her throat. Fuck Taylor. Fuck her judgement and fuck her thinking she’s got some kind of free pass because her mother’s in the hospital. Bitch can walk to Taco Bell when she gets a late night craving.

 

Just like her parent. Ignoring her is a reward and a punishment.

 

Why won’t someone just fucking love her?

 

Boys like Nathan and Zachary will whimper they love her into her neck when they’re under her, but they don’t really mean it when they buckle their belts.

 

Her mind finds its way to Max Caulfield, as it does every five minutes (okay, more like three). How would it feel to have long, freckled limbs pinned under her. To see those feral blue eyes focusing on her for a change (instead of hidden behind the lens of a camera). Victoria’s hands ball and shake. She’s known the girl for barely a week and she wants to possess her. To taint that virgin image, turn her into a panting whore.

 

She gets the same urge every time she sees a glimpse of that golden cross hanging above Kate Marsh’s tits.

 

Is there a casual way to ask someone if they want to be tied up and owned? Shit, now she’s all wet and can’t focus.

 

She hears the fucking Futurama theme through the wall for the third time in the past hour. She slaps the spot closest to Brooke’s computer. Hasn’t the bitch ever heard of headphones?

 

Her annoyance only makes her libido higher. She needs to walk it off. Might as well get a Coke Zero from the vending machines.

 

Victoria struts out into the hall. Dusky orange light is filtering in through the spotty windows at the end of the hall. Maybe she should enjoy the last of the sun by sitting on the steps or the lawn. She could even take a few photos.

 

At the vending machine she runs into the object of her desires. (The current one, anyway.) It makes her very aware of how the seam of her jeans is brushing against her own arousal. She adjusts her weight on her hip for that delicious friction.

 

Max pounds a fist against the fibreglass shell of the vending machine, swearing when it refuses to give her a soda, or her money back. Victoria watches, no audience to impress, only empathy. The girl looks near tears. Frustration, loneliness, and an aching need to be accepted; she recognizes the look from her mirror.

 

A deep breath fills Victoria. Just this once, don’t be a dick. Don’t fucking preen or be shitty. Just be a decent fucking person.

 

She presses her palm between Max’s shoulder blades. Her muscles jump--a flinch away from the contact.

 

“Here,” Victoria sighs, “You’ve gotta hold it for about five seconds. These machines are ancient and picky.”

 

Max is barely a few centimetres in front of her. Victoria bathes in the warmth radiating off her. She almost has Max pinned to the machine, blocking the area behind her and to her right, hand pressed to the vending machine.

 

It rumbles and a coke can rolls out into the chute. With an electronic groan, it spits out three dollar bills. Max doesn’t reach for it. She stays still. The air between them crackles. Max is breathing fast and Victoria’s breathing hard. From this close she can see the hair sticking up on the back of Max’s neck. The goosepimples trailing under her collar. All she needs to do is lean forward to be licking distance.

 

Gravity takes its toll on Victoria’s arm, the muscles twitching with the strain. Her chest brushes Max’s back. She shudders so hard her teeth chatter. Max makes a noise caught between a choke and a whine.

 

A sneaker squeaks on tile nearby and Victoria pushes herself away. Her front is too cold she hugs her chest to compensate. Max crouches to grab her cola from the mouth of the machine.

 

Both look suspiciously innocuous as Alyssa and Stella walk past loudly talking about the cultural significance of Kubrick.

 

“Thanks.” Max says.

 

Victoria feels her gaze and decides to meet it. Max’s smile is shy and lopsided, the left side leading the right. Unbidden, her own mouth mirrors it. Before she can stop herself she says,

 

“Happy Birthday.”

 

“Th-thanks, Victoria. I didn’t think anyone here would know.” She rubs at an eye.

 

God, she’s so pathetic. Victoria wants to wrap her up in a blanket and hold her. Or step on her face.

 

“I’ve been really… I needed that. Sorry, I--thanks.” Max says.

 

She’s so cute when she blushes.

 

“Don’t mention it.”

 

Max turns away. Victoria panics. She wants her to smile again. In a bold move, she grabs her wrist. Max doesn’t flinch this time.

 

“I mean it, if it gets around that I’m going soft, the entire social order will collapse.”

 

“What makes that such a bad thing?” Max says.

 

The smile she gives Victoria makes her shift her weight again. She traces the lines of Max’s teeth and lips, trying to memorize each detail for when she rides her own hand later.

 

“See you around, Victoria.” Max says.

 

“Au revoir.” Victoria breathes.

 

 


End file.
